The Call That Will Never Come
by mccalla867
Summary: There is no way to summarize the flow of emotions when you're heart is maimed. "Here I sit, waiting for the call that will never come." One-shot. Confusing.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any related themes.**

**Author's Note: It is probably unlikely that you will particularly like this story. Maybe you will be confused, or maybe you will feel the jumble of emotions Bella feels. But I'd wager confusion. Which is what I want.**

**I wrote this one shot for me. It's not long, but it's something that I needed to get off my chest. Things aren't so fine and dandy in the life of swalk. Nor are they in the life of Bella and Edward.**

_You've experienced life before me. I don't know what's out there.I want to find out. But I want you too. I just don't know what to do. Every time I'm angry or upset, I think about his fingers inside you, his tongue tracing sensitive spots, all before me. You were fifteen and you were whoring yourself to him. You just wanted to do it for you. You didn't love him, nor did you think you did. You just wanted the experience. I saved myself, and you didn't have the decency to do the same._

It was like my heart was being ripped in half. No. Shredded into a million pieces. A tangle of emotions filled me... _regret for something I had once thought was right, something I wouldn't have stopped, regret for something that happened before I was enlightened... pain for being blamed for something when I was naive._

_--_

Time goes by. Explanations had been made, and time went by. But nothing eased the pain. Nothing eased the regret for something that I had once believed in.

As I sit here, contemplating how to continue my short tale, I'm not completely focused. I'm watching Charlie move about the room, sneaking careful glances in my direction. I'm watching my fingers move across the keyboard, almost unaware of what's being written. But most importantly, I'm watching _him_ in my mind's eye, everything he had done to and for me. All was reciprocated. But I didn't have the talent to show my complete adoration for him as often as he did. I knew it, he knew it, but he doubted me. A year of us had gone by, and he doubted me.

A jumble of thoughts and emotions splay across my face for a moment before I can compose myself. Luckily, Charlie didn't see. My words are jumbled as my thoughts, I can hardly even understand myself.

--

Things were dandy. Then things were not. Arguments about trite things had been made and quickly resolved. But things were building up. I didn't know what was wrong, and I hardly even realized that something _was_ wrong in the first place. I didn't know he was fuming inside, his visualizations of my past brewing in his mind.

He told me that he was jubilant that he would be the first to touch me. Of course, this was much later that he had admitted his feelings. For I had told him over the summer that I had had relations before. I had thought I had found the one, until I met _him_. I couldn't control my mouth, and ended up admitting my sort-of feelings to 'the one.'

And then I was single again. I made an attempt at flirting with someone so completely out of my reach. Beautiful, desired and a year older, _he_ was what I had dreamed of, but what I had never really known. The moment I set eyes upon him in class, a curtain of lust clouded all rational thought. All I knew was that I wanted him.

It was amazing but he wanted me. Soon we proclaimed our love, and soon we were consummating our relationship, which led to pledges of a lifetime together. Somewhere between the first two actions, I explained my past. He was upset at first, but I had thought he got over it when he still accepted me, tainted as I was. I was still technically a virgin, but he didn't see me as that. I was defiled, disgusting... but somehow he still could love me.

It was too recently that he told me the truth. How he was almost jealous that I had experienced other people, but I was his first everything... first kiss, first girlfriend, first love. I was ashamed to have been called someone else's girlfriend prior to him. Though I had previously thought I was in love, only to realize too late that it was actually lust, cleverly disguised.

So many times had I analyzed this new relationship, and never before had I felt so strongly. I never could imagine myself in ten years, but I could, having finished graduate school with him only a year ahead of me. Our children were perfect replicas of my magnificent husband. Sitting on a swinging chair on our porch, swinging through the warm air while watching waves crest in the ocean beyond the cliff's edge. I couldn't live without him. That much I knew.

But he said the unforgivable words... how he wanted a green card to go and touch other girls like he had only touched me... kiss other girls like he had only kissed me. How he wanted to experience the world, under the guise of setting the future of or relationship in stone. I couldn't see the reason in this argument, nor could I allow him that green card. My soul was ripped away, sold to the other side.

He was gone. The night was spent with tears pouring down my face as he hardly tried to comfort me through the phone. I sometimes wonder why I had called him. Maybe I was a masochist, or maybe I just couldn't let go of something I had loved and cherished for so long, no matter if I showed my emotion or not. I had crafted a carefully made mask in which I could hide behind in uncomfortable situations. I pushed away everyone behind that mask... and I was strong.

But in truth, I wasn't. I wanted more than anything to have any piece of him that I could have, no matter how small. I wanted to dig my claws into him and never let him go, but I also wanted to allow him what he wanted. The night ended in no decision.

I told him the next day that he must have learned some voodoo magic, because no matter what stupid things he did or said, each day, I fell even more in love with him. It was, and still is true. But with love comes pain, irreversible agony.

He was gone again, down two hours to visit his future college. I asked him to call me when he got there. He promised he would. _Hook_.

Hours I waited, reading, thinking, waiting for that call. It never came.

Two hours ago, I managed to pluck up the courage to call him. He picked up, greeting me with the _line_ I always fell for. My breath caught, and I couldn't speak for a moment. He called my name once or twice, my words too quiet for him to hear.

I couldn't bear the conversation with him. I discovered that he had gone to one of the college's classes, and was now just 'chillin' with his bros.' He didn't call me. Maybe it was irrational, the overwhelming pain that I felt, and maybe it was justified.

He was at a college, surrounded by other girls. I couldn't stand the thought that one could have caught his interest. My mask of calm collectiveness was collapsing, along with my barely mended heart. I designed a lie to excuse myself from him, but he was prodding me. He wanted those three words I swore I would always speak before our conversations terminated. But this time, I couldn't. I told him to call me when he got the chance, and hung up.

--

After a gut-wrenchingly painful shower, which consisted of my tears and collapse on the enamel floor, I sit here. And here I wait for the call that will never come.

But not even minutes after I think that, I feel a vibration from my cell phone. I eagerly paw for it, desperate to answer and hear his wonderful voice talk to me again, apologize for every word said and express his deep emotion for me. But it's just my alarm, alerting me that it's time for me to take my pill.

I'm still waiting for the call that will never come.


End file.
